


He is Few

by Valpoet



Series: Blindspot AU [5]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindspot!AU, Blood and Violence, Post-Same As It Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 07:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17402618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpoet/pseuds/Valpoet
Summary: Same as it Never Was divergent - in a world where by miracle alone the brothers survive and Donatello came back from "Purgatory".This is a series of various oneshots, drabbles, and snippets from an alternate ALTERNATE universe in which Leonardo is blind, Donatello is guilt stricken, Michelangelo is learning to forgive, and Raphael is learning how to cast aside his anger in favour of loving his brothers.His brothers are dead. There is no getting around that. He saw it. He knows it. He'll just have to take the city back for them.





	He is Few

**Author's Note:**

> This snippet was originally part of an rp I'm doing with a buddy, but it works incredibly well for the overall feel of the AU and correctly demonstrates Don's feelings BEFORE he was reunited with his brothers. 
> 
> This takes place AFTER he escaped from Purgatory, but before he's been reunited with his bros. I was proud of it, so I'm uploading and archiving it here as part of this series as a whole.

Each night he patrols, he finds something interesting. New scaffolding to scope from, a cluster of punks, some random rogue Foot that don’t know what to do with themselves now. Even so, each victory rings hollow and empty. 

Meaningless.

Donatello exhales, his breath frosty in the cold of the autumn night and body trembling. He’s not built for the cold, but it doesn’t matter, he has to keep pushing and keep going until the streets are clean and  _safe_  and-

And until his brothers are properly avenged. Until he can pay his debts and do what he should have been here to do thirty years ago.

The wood of his staff cracks as he grips it too hard, his eyes scanning the darkness and the horizon of the city for a new target.

In and out. It’s his motto now.

In and out. Just like breathing.

In and-

Movement to his left. It takes just a moment to register it as another one of those new thug gangs that are sprouting up all over. Fighting for the city that isn’t theirs, but the people’s. Fighting for the city that his brothers  _died_  for and Donnie will be damned if he lets some  _punks_  take it.

So he jumps and he moves and he’s on them with a burst of adrenaline and a fury that he always feels these days. Angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he has no  _choice_. 

His brothers are dead and he wasn’t there, but he can do this. He can do  _this_ until his body is too old and broken and tired to go on anymore. Until the hallucinations get him and make him believe that they're  _real_. Until his lack of sleep and sustenance finally is enough to push him to the edge where a simple thug like the guys he’s bapping right now will be able to take him out.

His brothers died fighting, so why shouldn’t he?

There are only five of them. They’re young and seasoned, but Donnie is better. Donnie is better because he has a better reason and a better claim to this city than they can even hope to dream.

He hits fast. He hits hard. Five bodies fall with good knocks to the head and deep cuts to arteries that’ll have them dead in minutes. Don might be a killer now, but he isn’t cruel. 

They won’t feel their life leave them. They won’t feel themselves dying. Not like he feels himself dying. 

Panting, he slips the bloody knife away and shoulders his staff, eyes flickering over the carnage.

And he hates himself a little bit more. Memories of fallen brothers screaming for him (not real memories, but the memories that always come and push the real ones out). Memories of blood and death and pain.

He hates himself, but regrets none of what he’s doing. He has no choice. This is his life now. It’s what he deserves. Kill or be killed. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

Donatello is the few.


End file.
